All the Strange, Strange Females
by ConsultingBlogger01
Summary: Something went awry during the Lazarus incident, leaving the Doctor to deal with the repercussions and a slight inconvenience. Only, he wasn't expecting that inconvenience to change his timeline so drastically. The pair of breasts were a surprise too.
1. An Experiment Gone Awry

Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related series are owned by the BBC and their respective writers. Seeing as how I'm not even from the U.K, it's a good assumption I have nothing to do with its ownership. Which means I get nothing from this.

AN: First story. Whoo. Last time I tried to write something along fanfic lines was over a decade ago, and let me tell you it was fucking _awful_. Like, 'preteen fangirl with rudimentary writing ability on Gaia Online' awful. I'm also kinda bullshitting this as we go along, so we'll see how this pans out.

My only defense for this is there is a severe lacking of female Doctor anything on the internet. Combine being salty about that, the excellent fic "Female of the Species" by Bella the Strange (Which I would highly suggest giving a look if you haven't) and having a relatively boring stretch at work brought this monstrosity to life.

And hell, maybe this'll shape to be something half decent and not trash. _Yay_.

* * *

Tonight was really not going according to plan for the Doctor.

Then again, most days the last few months haven't been. Something had to change; maybe he could go back and find a way to ban all days that ended with 'Y'? Surely that would take care of the problem. But he was rather fond of Saturday though. Get rid of Tuesday? Maybe Sunday- the day is boring and the planet was too wet for his taste. Interesting fauna species though; they should make a trip. Wait, where was he going with this?

A bestial voice sounded from outside the bright white box he and his newest companion were taking shelter in. Ah, that's right.

All he wanted to do was drop Martha off and be on his way; maybe pick up some chips and have a good read in the TARDIS library. The two of them have had some amazing adventures, and she was absolutely brilliant, and it was all well and good to have company again. But after what happened at Torchwood with the Daleks and Cybermen still being too fresh a memory, he needed time to work things for himself.

Everything from closing the parallel world, to helping the ginger spit-fire bride who unexpectedly popped aboard and kept insisting he was a Martian (He was _nothing_ like a Martian, thank you very much), to saving an entire hospital that was transported to the moon was interesting to say the least. If anything, the kind of adventures he usually lived for. But there wasn't even the slightest chance to slow down. To mourn for the could-have and should-have beens he lost on that beach in Norway. It was all too much too soon and he was growing exhausted from it.

So he intended to drop Martha off and go. She could find happiness without the Doctor, just like all of the other companions did. She was bright and would understand why he wanted to go back to being a lone traveler, if only for a short while. She would realize there was more to life than sticking with a mad man and his blue box.

That plan went down the rubbish when the telly mentioned the apparent event of the century. Martha's sister conveniently had special tickets for her and a guest since she was in charge of PR for it, and he decided to see what this Professor Richard Lazarus really meant by changing what it meant to be human.

Seeing it in action, the results were astounding. If you don't count the device almost blowing them to kingdom come then the fact that Lazarus, a man born before the Second World War, walked out of the machines door looking and feeling decades younger than when he went in brought awe and inspiration to the crowd. Truly, they thought, he did what he said and changed the outlook he sought.

And while it was impressive, he was the only one that felt a sense of trepidation about the matter. Humans shouldn't have anything remotely to this caliber of capability, especially in the 21st century.

Lazarus and the Lady Thaw dodged his interest and questions with unfortunate precision, and there was so much more to this that needed explaining. Just because the professor may have understood the theory of hypersonic sound waves did not mean he could account for all the risks and variables. And the Doctor could have sworn, sworn with almost more ferocity than anything else he felt in his nine-hundred years, that something felt familiar about the energy from that machine.

Something powerful and mysterious, and could never be controlled in the way Lazarus wanted it to be. And it terrified him.

That fear turned out to be for just reasoning when people started dying in the form of crazed ambitions crossed with genetic manipulation. That topped with explaining to the darker woman about messing with DNA and protein sequences while escaping from said monster making passes at her sister was surprisingly not in the top ten of how he wanted to spend the evening.

Okay, that's lying; maybe eighth, if he was honest. Nothing does quite say a fun night like running away from excruciating death and explaining the science behind why Tish's boss turned into a homicidal scorpion beasty.

And the nibbles. He does love some good party nibbles.

He was distracted from his ramblings by Martha asking him another question. He really needed to stop getting sidetracked. He answered back, "Some option that evolution rejected for you millions of years ago, but the potential is still there. Locked away in your genes, forgotten about until Lazarus unlocked it by mistake."

"It's like a Paradox box."

"Exactly. Nice shoes, by the way."

Thinking back on his life, the Doctor wished he took more time to study mechanics of this finesse. While he loved studying botany, thermodynamics, and cosmic science, those weren't exactly being useful at the moment. Maybe that's what they could start using Tuesday's for. And then maybe he wouldn't be sitting in a machine with a monster trying to kill them while he tried to sonic wires to make it reflect the power on the outside of the machine instead of absorb it inside and—

A blue light flashed on as the machine started whirring to life. Well there goes their hope for more time then.

"Doctor, what's happening?"

"Sounds like he switched the machine on."

"That's not good, is it?"

"Well, I was hoping it would take him a little longer to work that out."

As the machine starts to spin and become brighter, Martha tensed and gazed at him with increasing concern. "I don't mean to hurry you, but…"

He doesn't even blink while continuing to work on the cables. He's only half listening to her at this point, trying to figure out what attaches to what and where that familiar energy he felt is coming from, buried somewhere in the abyss of connectors and electricity. "I know, I know. Nearly done."

And then the Doctor pauses because he feels it. It's there in front of him and so close, buried in a little panel box just right behind the wires to reflect the incoming sound wave of manipulation that could scream disaster for them both. The energy that feels soft and understanding, like it knows everything he has been through and wants to comfort him like a blanket.

Martha doesn't notice his pause, looking more panicked between the flashing lights and him. He supposes she's probably too worried about living through this. Maybe have a good nap and about her sister and possibly thinking of continuing to travel with this insane man who calls nowhere home, when she asks him what exactly he's doing.

The Doctor explains bluntly about the reflection idea and how Lazarus' new body is spread so thin through cellular triplication and what would happen if this plans works. But he retains focus on the wires and moving his sonic through the tight space to the little box to open it. Just a little more and he can reach it.

The motor spurs the apparatus faster and Martha's yell interrupts his thoughts, "We're gonna end up like him!"

"Just one more!"

He says it because there really is only one more wire to take care of, to switch the polarity of the energy and send it straight out and away from them. He says it as a way to assure himself and Martha that they would make it out of this okay.

He mostly says it because "just one more" really meant one more inch until the sonic screwdriver unlatched whatever keeping all that infuriatingly interesting energy locked up. There was no way it was any nearby assessable source; a machine like this would need a large surplus and more to make it even start, let alone finish the entire process. Whatever they were dealing with not only was enough to complete the genetic manipulation and almost cause it to destruct twice, but also enough to exceed its holding capacity and blow up the complex with more capacity than the missile that condemned 10 Downing Street.

And all of it was coming from a panel no larger than his palm.

He bends forward and the sonic screwdriver makes contact. He hears it unlatch the same time he touches the wire he knows (hopes) will end this. He drops his trusted tool and forces open the panel to make a grab at whatever is contained inside when he takes a tight hold of the wire in his other hand.

At the same time the Doctor pulls the cord so it disconnects from the main breaker with his left hand, his opposite takes hold of what feels to be akin to a small glass vial. The sheer familiarity coming from it stuns him and he can only stare at his right arm holding whatever it is because now he knows exactly what is in that glass and ' _how in the hell did Lazarus get this?'_

Then the connector in his hand lets out a shock, the cord sending a small electrical current into whatever is now conducting it. Namely, him. He lets out a sharp yelp and feels his body tighten to fend off the abrupt assault of pain while he glares at the cord.

Then he hears a _crunch_ and realizes one second too late what happened. ' _Oh bugger_."

All of a sudden there is blood from his veins and the now known substance flowing together, dripping down his hand and mixing into the cuts from the glass, and for a second he feels completely relaxed. The bright lights and Martha's scream drown away from his mind and, for a split second, his reality shifts.

The fluorescent lights and stings of pain are replaced by an expanse of red, bleeding a gradient from the ground to the sky, and the feel of grass between his toes. He sees snow capped mountains outlining the twin suns and the silver leaves of trees long forgotten. Everything is just as the Doctor remembers it, before being shipped away at the tender age of eight and everything going wrong.

And then his body seizes in agony and he screams. Everything is burning and there is a fire licking away at his body that he swears feels hotter than the plasma flares of Eta Carinae and his mind is taken back to the present reality. But instead of the white light from the hyper-sonic sound wave manipulator all there is are streams of a radiant golden glow roaring throughout the space, going around and around until there is nothing else visible.

He thinks he hears Martha crying his name, and hopes she's alright. She still has so much to show the world and would probably kill him for ruining it so early on, and he considers continuing to take her around the universe so she can talk him out of doing these dumb things he does. Maybe on Saturday take her on a vacation to somewhere nice; she deserves it. Saturday's were good. Hell, he'd even be willing to spend a million more ridiculous Tuesday's doing boring relaxing if only this pain would stop.

The apex of energy was finally released outside the machine, and he could hear the hollow dying screech of Professor Lazarus. Too numb to focus on anything except the softly swirling golden light around him, the Doctor closed his eyes.

And then everything was quiet and dark.

* * *

When he started to wake up from the deep unconsciousness, the Doctor could tell something was different.

Not bad different, per se, but something felt off. He swiftly went over a mental checklist (Teeth felt fine, still two hearts beating, other involuntary motor functions A-Okay, did he shrink? He felt smaller. And something felt decisively wrong below the neck) before deciding as long as the generals worked and it wasn't a full regeneration, he was too tired to care. He could hear Martha babbling about something, so at least she was okay too. That's good; sleeping a little longer would be good too…

"Doctor!"

A sharp pain hit the side of his face. His eyes flew open to see Martha with a sheepish expression. "Ow!" The Doctor rubbed his cheek and whined, "What'd you do that for?" Aha! Voice sounded a little different, that's new.

Martha raised an eyebrow, trying with increasing difficulty not to appear smug at his overreaction of the slap. "Sorry!" ' _She could at least have the decency to_ look _sorry about it_ ,' he thought, throughly disgruntled. "It's just, well, you weren't waking up. Had to make sure you're alright and all."

"Look at you; doctor to the Doctor now?" He gave a chuckle and tried to stand up. Then vertigo kicked in and he went tumbling arse first back to the ground. He gave a grumble and a scowl when Martha tried to contain a laugh. She had a questioning squint in her gaze though. He just went through the whole effort of saving them; why was she looking at him like that?

Figuring it might be the blood (' _She should really get over that if she's going into medicine_ ,' he thought), he held up his damaged hand and asked her, "So what's the diagnosis, Doctor Jones? Am I gonna make it?"

"Ah, well…" She paused a moment, studying him up and down and her eyes gravitated to anything that wasn't him. "I'm a bit out of my depth with this. Is this..." She gestured toward him, "Normal? For your kind?"

The Doctor gave her an odd stare before peering down at his hand. Outside of a couple cuts and some bleeding nothing appeared out of place. Easy enough to heal in the TARDIS infirmary; no regeneration energy even required. Sure there was a bit of blood, and maybe some glass could have gotten in the cuts—wait. ' _Why does my hand look weird?'_

This hand was noticeably different than the hand he was used to. Smaller and slimmer, with long fingers and a wrist that did not fit the cuffs to the suit. Lifting the other, his left was identical to the new right. Now focusing on the rest of the body, he could feel something was _definitely_ outside the norm. There was only one more thing to do to conclude this hypothesis. A bit unnerved, he looked down.

Oh. _Oh._

His gaze shot back to Martha's, confusion and intrigue shining through. She knew that look; it was the same as if they had found a new planet or alien species, like there was an exciting adventure and a puzzle to be solved. Suddenly he grabbed whatever was in the glass container off the floor, Martha gazing on disapprovingly as he winced from accidentally picking up a broken shard or two alongside, and quickly jumped up. This time using the continuing vertigo as momentum, he bashed his side into the door to force it open.

Stumbling from the over exuberant force and the door opening much easier than anticipated, the Doctor flailed and grabbed hold of Martha as they exited the genetic manipulation device. After making sure he was steady she went over to check on Professor Lazarus, who was a few meters away on the ground stark naked. While the shorter woman was busy, he was able to take a breath and examine the new changes.

He was able to conclude he was only a couple inches taller than his companion now, at most reaching 5'5". The suit he worn for the special occasion was now barely clinging to him in some areas and too tight in others, normally fitted to his 6'1" stick figure frame. It was something he could work with; he had been shorter in previous regenerations. What was the real shocker were the two moderately sized tumors on his chest.

The Doctor leered at them (' _Why were they so_ heavy' _,_ he observed with a glare, trying to find new balance in the form) and instead focused on what he was holding from the glass. It made no sense how the Professor managed to get a hold of what he did. He had extensive questions and refused to leave until they were answered. He turned his attention back to his companion, hoping she was already able to start interrogating the man.

He froze, eyes widening and mouth going slack jaw, when he saw Martha peeking at him in concern as she kneeled to examine the newly deceased body of the only person who would have the answers to why, to bluntly put it, he was now a she.

The Doctor groaned and turned her gaze skyward, letting out a silent curse. No, this night was definitely not going according to plan.

* * *

It was when they were watching the medics prepare to take the body away that Martha finally decided to approach the "elephant in the room" topic. She wanted some kind of explanation on what happened, and the only person would could was too busy doing a thorough analysis of their new form. "You seem to be taking this rather well. Haven't gone into shock, have you?"

The Doctor glanced at her, focused on trying to feel around the skin of her upper back under the large suit (' _Yes! The mole is still there. Love the mole_.') before beaming to her companion. "No, no shock. Unexpected, but not so bad once you get used to the idea." Hands moved from upper to lower back and rear, feeling with scientific interest around the curves she never had.

Martha smacked the woman's wandering hands away from her examination, to which the Doctor pouted at. New body or not, she couldn't let her friend feel herself up in public! Some of the medics were already looking on in interest at the scene. She could already feel the headache coming on, and not from the prior near death situation. ""Unexpected?" You're female now! I'd say it's a tad more than just unexpected."

"You'd be surprised," The taller female mused as hands moved to examine stomach and hips, "It's more rare than uncommon, but Time Lords can occasionally change gender when we go through regeneration. It's just one of our many quirks. S'not the first time I've wondered what being female would be like."

The darker woman paused at the mention of the alien race. Was she really talking about her people without Martha's insistence on the subject? And with not a mention of Rose yet today? She almost dared not to try her luck. "And is regeneration one of your 'many quirks' too?"

The Doctor became more solemn as she stopped her groping and regarded the companion. "Yeah. Something like that. A Time Lord's reward." She scoffed and forced a smile that Martha could tell did not reflect what she felt, "But it's okay, 'cause that's not what happened. I'm still me- just with girl parts."

The woman could tell that was probably as much as she could get out for now, although concerned with the "I'm still me" quote. Whatever regeneration was couldn't mean that much of a change could it? Instead, she focused back to the issue at hand. "That still doesn't explain how you ended up with those parts."

"I think this had to do with it." The Doctor's eyes gleamed as she held out her hand. Resting on it was what appeared to be a large and thick layer of pale skin, lightly covered with what appeared to be a fading golden glow. "How he got it I don't know, but I'd be willing to bet this is Time Lord DNA." She announced with clear and grim certainty. "Every cell of our body is infused with regeneration and chronon energy. Like I said earlier," She clenched tightly to the dermis, "Lazarus took that energy and hacked his own genes. It rejuvenated his cells to regress. But only the Time Lords knew the potential of that energy, and even we didn't dare take chances with it. It's limitless and directly linked to the time vortex, and far too impressive for most to handle; let alone anything from 21st century Earth. The variables are too great to expect one definite outcome."

"So what you're saying is that it corrupted and renewed his cells, and it changed your chromosome structure?" Of course Martha understood the biological side of it (She was training to be an actual doctor) but this kind of change for humans would takes years of treatments, and never get one as complete as this. It all still sounded so alien to her- pun intended.

"Who's to say that's not what happened? The machine was meant to hyper-sonic and morph protein sequences; most everything in the universe have the base building blocks of life." She took a discarded cloth from the floor and wrapped it around the skin before depositing it into a pocket. When they got back to the TARDIS, she could do a full scan.

"But you said there are no other Time Lords. Then how did he get it? If it's so dangerous, I'm assuming it wasn't given up freely."

"No assuming even needed; there's no way any Time Lord would willing give up something like that. Especially to someone with such grandeur delusions." The Doctor looked around as the medics finally toted the Professor's corpse away to the ambulance and event goers started milling back around outside, "Well then. That just leaves us with two questions."

"And what would those be?"

"Like you said, where did Lazarus get this?" She patted the pocket holding the precious material, "You were right. I told you before, in New New York; I'm the last one. All the Time Lords are gone now. There shouldn't be a genetic trace to them left in the universe. And then how is it that the apparent one piece of DNA out there ends up here?" The Doctor gazed down seriously, letting her mind wandering for a moment. ' _The Face of Boe did say I'm not alone. But there's no way. They all burned on Gallifrey, I made sure of it…_ '

"Doctor?" She broke out of her thoughts and glanced back to her companion, "You said two questions."

"Ah." She smirked. Time to will the usual carefree mask back on and make the best out of an odd circumstance. "Well, it's important. And right now, I only trust you to answer it." She gently grabbed hold of the woman's shoulders and leaned in, close enough to see the dark brown pupils dilate. Gazing into her eyes, she gave a large lopsided grin. "So, am I at least a pretty lady?"

The now Time Lady bit her lower lip to keep from snickering at the others reaction; a light pink dazzling her cheeks as she stepped away and started sputtering comically. She could pick up the phrases of "I mean- honestly-" before the shorter woman crossed her arms and stubbornly glared off to the side.

She let out an unrestrained laugh, Martha grumbling with a slight leer from the hilarity of the situation. ' _Male or female,_ ' she thought, ' _It's definitely still the same Doctor._ '

The Doctor, maintaining her pleased look, held out her arm, "Shall we then, Ms. Jones? Wouldn't want your family thinking I kidnapped you."

Martha let out a snort and circled her arm around the other woman's before walking out of the event complex, "The pleasure is all mine. Although you know that kidnapping is basically what happened. Even enticed me with traveling like candy to a child. Maybe I should tell Leo; he'll set you straight."

The gangly woman let out an indignant gasp before bumping shoulders with her and chuckling. "Oi! The cheek of you, I swear. I'll leave you with Shakespeare again!" She crinkled her eyebrows. "No, wait. You both would enjoy that too much. I'll leave you on Raxacoricofallapatorius. Or Clom!"

"You'll leave me _where_?"

"Martha!" The two look up and see Martha's sister running towards them preparing to give her an exuberant hug, the rest of the Jones family bringing up the rear. "She's here! Oh, she's all right!"

"See? Brought her back, safe and sound." The Doctor beamed at the family, and turned to her companion's mother. "Ah, Mrs. Jones! We still haven't finished our chat."

The Jones family looked at her confused, wondering who this woman with the short haircut and too big clothing was, until Francine's face blanched. "D-Doctor?"

"Sorry, things got a little interesting earlier, but we should be all set—"

A resounding _SLAP_ sounded through the area and her head threw itself sideways from the force. Not as hard as a Jackie Tyler hit, she mused, but still enough that the stinging wouldn't go down anytime soon. "Keep away from my daughter!"

"All of the mothers, every time…" She quietly whined as Francine turned back to her daughters shocked cry.

"Martha, you need to stay away from him." A brief fearful look back at the alien, like she hadn't noticed the obvious change at first. "I've been told things. And how did he change like that? That's not possible! He is dangerous!" She gripped Martha like her life depended on it. "Look around you; nothing but death and destruction."

"This isn't her fault! She saved us, all of us!"

Leo decides to take that chance to step up, ever trying to diffuse tensions, and looks between his sister and mother, sparing the Doctor the occasional glance. "And it was Tish who invited everyone to this thing in the first place. I'd say technically, it's her fault." Said PR representative doesn't even bother batting an eye as she elbowed him hard in the stomach.

The group was startled by a loud crash from the next street over. The Doctor looked over to Martha, trusting she would follow, and then took off as fast as the baggy pants would let her. She wheeled around the corner and saw the ambulance that just took off with Lazarus' body, hit into a pole with the doors wide open.

The more concerning part, as Martha and surprisingly Tish followed closely behind and peered at the ambulance, were the mummified corpses inside the vehicle and dressed in medical insigne jackets. Same way as the Lady Thaw's body looked. "Lazarus, back from the dead. Should have known, really." The irony was not lost upon the Doctor as she uses the sonic to pick up a scan of the area and where their run away zombie might have gone. She nearly rolled her eyes as the sonic pointed them in the direction they needed to go, the towering cathedral creating an ominous shadow in the dark. "Oh, of course he goes in the church. And the implications go on."

"Southwark Cathedral. He mentioned it to me." Tish offhandedly commented, repressing a disgusted shiver as she remembered the flirting they bantered with on the roof (Before realizing Martha meant less Zeta-Jones and more "oh god it's going to kill me" monster type) as the three carefully entered. The cathedral was large and simply done; intricate gray stonework designs built into the walls and archways and making the color of the large paned glass windows shine intensely. An organ was hidden in the corner of the transept under the bell tower, hidden away from the many seats the men in the stained glass judged.

And there, in a huddled mess of skin and red cloth, was the gospel figure himself. He looked over at the trio, strain in his muscles and covered in sweat, and watched them for a moment before turning his gaze downward. "I came here before, a lifetime ago. I thought I was going to die then. I sat here, just a child, the sound of planes and bombs outside."

"The Blitz. I remember." Oh, did the Doctor remember. Hearing the cries of terror from bombs as his ninth incarnation and Rose and Jack had tried to help a poor little boy who only wanted his mummy. The last time that, just for once, everybody lived.

"You're too young."

"So are you."

Lazarus let out a bark of laughter, before closing his eyes and grunting from the pain of his bones trying to morph back into the hideous shape. While distracted, the Doctor glanced at the companion beside her. "I have an idea, but we need to get him up top the bell tower," She spoke quietly and nodded upwards, "He's going to change any minute. We need to make this quick." Martha nodded, and they gazed back at the professor, breathing heavily and pulling the cloth tighter around himself.

"It's okay," The Doctor speaks softly, like she's calming a cornered animal. "I understand. It's very human to want to be young forever, to avoid death. But you can't run forever."

To this he sneers at her, "And what do you know of running, Doctor? I've been running from death all my life. And this is what I get for trying a little longer. I may be a monster, but at least I'm alive."

Her eyes glaze over. She knew far too well about running, but now was not the time for that. "Yeah, 'suppose you are," She glances down at her new form. "So how about you be a good lad and tell me about how you managed to get what changed us both. Not something found on the black market, that's for sure."

"Hah! Every genius needs a sponsor; mine just happened to know exactly what I required." He held a breath as his muscles prickled before slowly exhaling. "They were very willing to fund my ambitions and spare no expense. All they wanted me to do was change the sample structures genetic coding just the slightest bit. Looking at you, it makes sense now," He leaned forward, "You're not entirely human either, are you Doctor?"

She was careful to keep a neutral expression as she circled him. "And how do you figure that?"

"My sponsor has their sources. They suggested by changing the chromosomes, it should not change the overall regression process that would work for the human race. It would only mutate the original source in that way. It's obvious the sample I received was in no way found on Earth; not with all the energy and the triple helix in the DNA." He smirked at her. "And it didn't regress you. It _changed_ you, just as they thought it would to the source. Interesting how adjusting those three helix and changing Y's to X work so effectively, if you were a simple human."

"So maybe I'm not," She knelt down to stare him in the eye. "But at least today I'm not the monster. So please, let me help you. Tell me who your sponsor is- we can fix you."

A savage crack filled the air and Lazarus convulsed. He managed to grit out, "I don't _want_ to be fixed! Not when I am so close." She got up and backed away, knowing what was about to happen. "As for my sponsor, he has a tremendous interest in you. One would say you have quite the secret admirer."

Before she could question him more (because how can someone know that much about her and regeneration energy and she has a _fan_?), he jumped up and made to lunge at her. She's ready to side-step and pull out her sonic in some form of a getaway, until she hears Martha call at Lazarus and suddenly he's changing and charging after the two other females up the stairs of the bell tower. ' _Not completely according to plan_ ,' she figures as she rushes to the organ loft, sticking the screwdriver into the power control and starting it up, ' _But we can improvise_.'

And then the Doctor hears the women screaming at the top of the tower and sees Lazarus trying to fit himself across the gap and Martha about ready to lose her grip on the wooden beams and fall, so she starts to play. The amplified power of the sonic and sound from the organ play at rises up to reach the trio, and she can only just hear the screams.

Her hearts skip a beat when something falls to the cathedral floor with a sickening crash, but sighs in relief when she cautiously peers over the rail and only sees wooden debris and the body of Richard Lazarus. ' _Properly dead this time_ ,' she notes bitterly, wishing for less death and more information from the events. But all in all, today was a success.

She turns her gaze upwards and shouts to the sisters to make sure they're alright. Martha cries back, "We're both okay!" It's obvious they're having a family moment when all she can hear after is quiet murmuring, so the Doctor leans back, closes her eyes, and just breathes.

* * *

"So, that was fun." They're back in Martha's home later that night, refreshed after the events of the evening. The Doctor, still very much feminine, is propped against the TARDIS with a gleaming smirk. "Escalated a bit more than I would have thought, but at least it wasn't boring."

"Nothing with you is ever is, is it?" The shorter woman chuckled and shook her head fondly. Female or not, the Doctor was still as ridiculous as ever. She had stubbornly dressed back in the usual brown pinstripe, even though the jacket went to her knees and the pants were holding on by a hair. She looked like a child playing dress up with her father's clothes. At this, Martha's smile tightened. "So then, have you figured out how to fix this yet?"

She knew it was the same person, but the darker woman did miss the tall and mysterious man she met in the hospital. She wasn't impartial, as this body was "a very pretty lady", but she was still unsure of how to exactly feel about the new development.

"No, I haven't," She let out a long sigh, "I don't want regenerate for a bit of vanity, and I don't know if there is a way to do it again without the genetic manipulator. The machine's kaput. There's no way I can tell what was used to change the sample." She patted the cotton of her jacket pocket absentmindedly. "It's almost useless now. I'll do another scan on board, but then I'll burn it. Energy or none, we still wouldn't want this getting into the wrong hands again."

"So… you're stuck this way?"

"Seems like it, for now at least." What was left of the gangly females grin slowly faded, "Does that bother you?"

Had her mouth been curter she would have made a sarcastic and snide comment, probably about why the Doctor would be stupid enough to think that. Luckily, she was able to stop herself and noted something… off.

The shifting from leg to leg, a slight curl of shoulders turning inward, the discrete fidgeting of her hands, biting of the lower lip, the crestfallen gleam in her eyes like she already knew what her companion would say; like she had this reaction in a different time and place…

The Doctor had been broken. Somehow she had changed before, and someone she cared about hadn't accepted her. Not right away, at least; she was too amazing for anyone to turn away from completely. She could already tell the alien female was probably thinking of a certain someone whose name began with an "R", but she wondered if there had been others. How many times had the Doctor changed, only to be hurt in the end?

Midway through her musings, she noticed the Doctor had been rambling without her paying attention. "- and I don't know if I can change back, and the TARDIS would be lonely if you left, but if you want to go home that's your decision. Although I've thought that we can do something fun and your choice this Saturday to make up for the event-"

"No."

The Doctor gazed sharply at her, as if Martha had just kicked a puppy. "Okay," she exhaled, moving toward the TARDIS door. "I'll just… leave you to it then."

"Doctor," She grabbed the others sleeve tightly, "I mean _no_. As in it doesn't bother me. You're fine. Odd and a bit eccentric," She grinned as the smallest bit of hope returned to the Doctor's eyes, "but still you."

The two stared at each other for what felt like infinity, the Time Lady attempting to comprehend the admission and genuine smile on her companion's face, and then beamed so brilliantly it would put whole constellations to shame.

"Martha Jones, you amazing thing." She placed her hand on Martha's and squeezed it gently, emotion blazing in her expression. "Thank you."

And when she looked up into the pupils of the taller woman, that hopeful brown squinting in the corners from how wide her grin was, Martha couldn't tell if her heart was racing so swiftly she couldn't feel it or if it had promptly stopped. She had made the Doctor look like that. Not Rose, but her.

' _Oh no,'_ Martha realized, ' _she's really cute_.'

And just like that, the Doctor pranced inside the TARDIS and she was left grasping air.

"So, what do you say?" The voice from inside the police box yells out to her, "One more trip?"

As she stood there staring at her hand, Martha realized something. ' _To hell with that._ ' she thought and went to stand at the door to watch the mad woman dance around the console. "No, sorry." The Doctor stopped her flailing around and looked at her, "These "one more trips" aren't exactly fair. I don't just want to be a passenger or someone you take for a treat-"

"Okay." The Time Lady crossed her arms and chuckled at the shock crossing her companion's face, "Well, you never really were just a passenger, were you?"

The Doctor and Martha shared a smile and the human steps in and slams the blue door tightly behind her. The familiar whooshing of the TARDIS dematerialized into the fabric of space and time sounds over the phone call of a concerned mother, with information and warnings of the Doctor from an interested party.

* * *

AN: Ooooh an interested party? Wonder who THAT could be. As if we didn't all watch season three. Maybe it could be some important character having to do with the plot or something. Oh golly gee.

Speaking of plot, what do you guys want? Do you want every episode as a chapter? Do you want original stories? Do you want longer or shorter chapters? I wanna know how to invest myself in for the long haul. And don't worry; it will follow the overall timelines and transcripts of the seasons, but I do have some twists to change it up. I've never heard the Prose or read the comics, so maybe I'll look and add reference to those. Maybe a new companion? Maybe a love interest? Maybe I'll kill everyone off? Who knows; that's the joy of being an author. Even I don't know what I'm doing.

In other news, Martha Jones deserves more credit than she gets and I will fight anyone who says otherwise.


	2. Suns Have Feelings Too

Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related series are owned by the BBC and their respective writers. Seeing as how I'm not even from the U.K, it's a good assumption I have nothing to do with its ownership. Which means I get nothing from this.

A/N: *Sweats nervously* So. It's been a month. And this is only like 75% the length of the first chapter. In my defense, this ended up being a bitch to write. Add that with work got super busy and I was in Boston for a convention. Plus learning about sciency things for this story takes forever to make it work. I have no clue if some of this works the way it actually should.

On the plus side, I have a decent portion to part of the Human Nature episodes done and decided to say fuck it and work in ideas for other chapters. And first views/reviews! Shout out to Duria Blue and everyone that favored/followed. Thanks lovelies~

So here are snippets of shenanigans and bits from _42_ for your hopeful enjoyment.

* * *

"So," The Doctor glanced up from her book to regard the companion, holding onto a piece of bacon stuck between her teeth to turn the page, "you've been in the lab a lot recently. Everything okay?"

She grunted something that sounded like a positive "mm-hmm" while she munched on her food, swallowing and taking a sip from her drink. "Oh yeah, everything's fine thanks. Just been checking on some things."

Martha leaned forward, cup of coffee in hand and clearly interested about any of the girl's potential findings. "Anything important?"

"Nothing overly so. Just… you know. Things."

It had been a week after they decided going on a sort of holiday, standing by to do only light traveling and taking everything on a slower pace. Both agreed it would be for the best; Martha could use a break after the non-stop trips since she first boarded the TARDIS, and the Doctor could have a chance to spend her hearts' content in the labs to figure out what exactly happened during their last big adventure.

While the new form did not personally bother her, it did make things slightly more difficult to become accustomed to than she'd like. Firstly, there was a whole topic of the gender and pronouns she and Martha had discussed. It had been resolved quickly; the companion had panicked one morning after calling the other "he", having been used to it since they met and still acclimating to the new change.

"Martha, just because it's not common, Time Lords are still innately a gender-fluid race; quite literally. I hardly mind whatever you call me. Wait, that's a lie. Don't call me David. Someone said I looked like a David they knew once. Such a dreadfully boring name, if you ask me. You know what's a good name? Alonso. All of space and time and still haven't met one."

' _Oh, so David is boring but using John Smith isn't?'_ Martha rolled her eyes, but refused to comment. If the Doctor didn't see reason to worry about it then neither would she.

That had taken care of one issue. The other was that on more than one occasion the Doctor found herself toppling head over heels from the shorter stature or weight differential, or slight changes in personality that later would have her pause.

One of those was that Martha briefly mentioned she was seemingly more domestic. She was _not_ becoming domestic. Domesticity and the Doctor could never even coincide in the same line of thinking, much less the same sentence. _"_ The day I agree to being domestic is the day the universe ends. _"_ the Doctor had joked while her companion only laughed her off.

This conversation was, of course, brought up by Martha during their new daily routine sit down breakfasts, which had been the Doctor's idea after the Lazarus incident. It was followed shortly by the new policy of mandatory after-adventure drinks and television, which was wittily named "tea-v time" by the TARDIS owner and also classified as not domestic. The Doctor said it was simply a way to rejuvenate and contemplate over their time together and compare notes on certain subjects.

Martha called it a complex, but she wasn't about to admit that.

* * *

The crash of glass breaking was heard in the TARDIS lab eleven days after the Lazarus incident.

The Doctor groaned and rubbed her hands over her face, tired of treating samples again and again with no new results. It wasn't normally like her to have outbursts, but throwing the petri dish against the wall had brought a slight satisfaction. She let her hands drop and grabbed the papers to reread, adjusting her glasses in case she made an error.

So many chemical compounds experimented with. Units of hydrogen and oxygen wasted in synthesizing to try and understand. So many hours she had spent with a microscope to analyze every little detail, everything from the exact levels of each hormone to seeing if she could replicate the structure to experiment with.

It all had been for naught. From what she could tell, the cell structures were as she expected; predominantly estrogen with only faint traces of testosterone, as if she had regenerated into this body instead of a male one that was forcibly changed over. She even took snippets of Martha's DNA while the other was conveniently unaware to check. Outside of the obvious alien differences, the two samples were remarkably similar in what made up the gender.

Again, she almost expected that. The real annoyance and shock came from the synthesized sample. The TARDIS had created an almost perfect replica to see what compounds she could come up with for a possibility to change her back if need be.

She had gone through dozens of test trials and hours trying to find a sequence that could be sustained for at least a twenty-four hour period without detriment effects, only to have every attempt blow up in her face- literally and figuratively. It was not until the latest attempt that she finally became so enraged she picked up the dish and threw it.

' _It had been fine!'_ She thought angrily. _'How did it change back!?'_ This was the third time she had found the right coding to recreate her original male chemical make-up, and it had held for over half an hour. She had been ecstatic, running to find Martha and tell her the news, but when the two had reentered not even five minutes later the system had shown it was back to 'XX homogamatic' instead of 'XY heterogamatic'.

"Any ideas to why it does that?" Martha had asked, knowing the amount of work the other had put into this project. While she had mentioned she was fine with the new development and wouldn't leave her because of the difference, it hadn't stopped the others need to figure out what happened and what it might take to change back.

The Doctor looked at her for a moment, exhaustion showing under her eyes and in her slumped figure, before throwing the papers on the counter and slowly getting up to head towards the door. "I'm gonna grab some tea and crisps. Meet you in fifteen minutes."

Martha had looked over to where the petri dish was violently tossed, the broken glass haphazardly spread across the floor, before following where the Doctor had gone. She knew the TARDIS would clean the shards and prepare another sample by tomorrow. Right now, her main concern was getting blankets and finding a decent DVD for them to watch.

* * *

After another six days of dealing with a mopey mess of a Time Lady and running out of television programme ideas, enough was enough. There was only so much of 'Bear With Me' Martha could handle- even with the celebrity edition- and they needed to get out before the other finally convinced her to watch that idiotic time travel movie. Cult classic or not, there were limits. Even if the Doctor had mentioned she helped the director think of suggestions during filming. Martha figured that explained a lot.

"We are going out."

The Doctor looked up from her spot on the couch to the companion, confusion sweeping across her face. "I thought you wanted to do a Harry Potter marathon?"

She had, before the Carrionites at least, but that wasn't the point. "I've dealt with enough witches for my lifetime and _you,_ " Martha yanked at the duvet the woman was burritoed in, which sent her spiraling to the floor with an undignified squawk, "promised me time and space. We haven't done more than a pit stop in days. You go get dressed in something nice."

The Doctor shot her a glare, to which she replied back with her own. "Now would be preferable."

Her arms crossed as she watched the Doctor grumble and scuff her feet towards the door. Since the week prior, the woman had not been herself in the least. Even during their agreed upon break they did at least done some traveling and had introduced her to a handful of planets. This, where it had been sitting and doing nothing, was becoming tiresome. And slightly pathetic the more time went on. "And take a shower! That gel has been sitting in your hair too long!"

The Time Lady stuck out her tongue at the other before Martha took a threatening step towards her and scrambling out of the room.

The companion should have realized her mistake of leaving her friend alone when she walked into the console room an hour later, thankfully cleaned and neat. She had checked up on the other earlier, and had been content enough with the other mumbling a list about species that were apparently inferior since she at least heard water running (She knew she should have felt insulted that she had walked past when the Doctor was talking about humans, but Martha digressed). The Doctor had even put new gel in her hair and taken an effort in her appearance.

However, she did distinctly remember telling the woman about a change of clothes.

"You are not wearing that out!"

"Why not? I always have. There never was a problem before!"

"Before it fit you fine; now it's ready to slide right off you! You cannot keep wearing your suit like that!"

"But Martha-"

"Don't you "but Martha" me!" She had sternly replied, "You march into that wardrobe right now and find something decent."

The girl groaned and turned to leave the console room, flapping long sleeves of the suit jacket once in frustration and being mindful of the pant legs that covered her feet as she stalked back into the depths of the TARDIS. ' _I fancy a giant child_.' Martha had concluded as the Doctor vanished from sight around a corner. ' _I should be getting paid for this. Or credits for dealing with a patient_. _I'm basically turning into her mother-_ '

At the thought, Martha's eyes widened in panic. How long had it been since the party? At least a few weeks she figured. Which means the last time she talked with her mother had been the argument before she ran off to confront Lazarus.

She pulled out her cell phone and saw the lack of service or signal bars. ' _Oh no_.'

* * *

"Right, there we go! Universal roaming; never have to worry about a signal again!" The Doctor grinned, shoving the sonic screwdriver away from the cell phone and into one of the inner pockets of her coat.

Martha had to admit, the amount of time trying to get the woman into a new outfit had been worth it. After much arguing about what would be proper versus practical, they finally came to an agreement.

The tailored pinstripe suit was replaced with mid-thigh shorts and a no sleeve vest of the same style and color, the Doctor not wanting to change the outfit completely. Legs were covered with black leggings, and a more fitted button up shirt stood out on her arms and under the vest. And, in a very Doctor fashion, the converse sneakers, tie, and large overcoat were allowed to stay.

Martha wasn't going to start arguing though. At least this combination would stay on and hide the important bits. She really didn't need those images assaulting her mind in the middle of running from aliens. It was a flattering look on the girl too.

"No way. You're telling me I can phone anyone? Anywhere in space and time?"

"As long as you know the area code." The Doctor joked and tossed the phone back at her friend. "It's a frequent flier's privilege; go on! Try it out."

Admittedly she was a little frightened, hell hath no fury like a mother scorned after all, but Martha scrolled through her phone as the Doctor flicked some controls around the console. Before she could press to call her mother's number the room suddenly shifted sideways and a loud alarm went off.

"Oh, here's what I was hoping for!" The Time Lady cheered as she tried holding onto the console monitor. "Distress signal! We're locking on! Might be a bit of-" Another couple bumps sent them both back to the floor before the TARDIS stilled completely. "Turbulence. Sorry."

"Distress signal? For what?" Martha questioned, although she was grateful for the added time of ignoring the phone call she had to make. Not so grateful for the landing.

"No idea. But that's what makes it fun!" The Doctor jumped up and checked the monitor again. "You have gotta admit this is much more exciting than whatever you probably had planned. Now come on, Martha! Let's take a look!"

And with that she jumped up and ran out of the TARDIS doors, leaving Martha to ponder why she had even bothered suggested doing something in the first place as she followed.

* * *

Martha jovially entered the TARDIS a moment after the Doctor with a spring in her step. The woman hadn't been kidding about their adventure being a distress signal; they had only been off the time machine for an hour, and both had almost burned to death. But everything was fine now, and it had been thanks to her. She had even gotten a well needed snog from it. "So! Didn't really need you in the end, did we?"

She had looked at the Doctor's face and hoped she had taken the jab well. Martha had felt she deserved it, since it wasn't every day that she was the one doing the saving. One glance at the others face said otherwise though. It had looked like the Time Lady did not even notice she was standing next to her, let alone heard what she said. The companion looked down, realizing she hadn't even asked if the Doctor was okay. She wasn't the one that was possessed by a living sun after all. "Sorry. How're you doing?"

The Doctor quickly turned away from her, flittering around the panels and pressing buttons. "Now, what do you say? Ice skating on the mineral lakes of Kur-ha. Fancy it? We can even pick up some ice cream from this lovely little planet nearby it. They use the milk of a species similar to goats that live on top of the mountains, up in the clouds. The atmospheric pressure makes for some of the best-"

"Doctor," Martha had cut her off, voice dripping with concern for her friend, "you're rambling." They knew the Doctor rambled often, but none more so than when trying to avoid a conversation.

The Doctor looked at the console monitor before sitting on the control panel chair, a grim frown marring her face. After a moment she quietly spoke out, "They should have done a scan."

How the crew would have known to check the burning star for life was beyond her, but she had run into odder things than an angry sentient sun.

And even then Martha had wanted to put more trust in the team on the S.S. Pentallian, more trust in Riley after their heart-to-heart on the escape pod, that if they had known they never would have taken that plasma. That they would have given the sun a wide berth and continued their waited for a rescue. Then no one would have had to die.

But she had learned people in the universe were not always so trustworthy. "I don't know if that would have stopped them."

The worst part of it was the Doctor knew she was right.

Fusion scoops were illegal and highly dangerous by this point in the timeline, but that did not stop McDonnell and her squad. All that suffering and death for the pretense of 'cheap fuel.' The Doctor prayed the two survivors felt guilt; not for their deceased team, but because it was their actions that harmed a beautiful and unique thing and caused it to last out.

The Doctor felt it when she was possessed; Torajii did not want to intentionally hurt them, but simply wanted its heart back.

Martha, tired of the quiet thinking the Doctor had become accustom to as of late and the darkening shadow over the girl's eyes, tried to lighten the mood. "So. These frozen lakes. They're not on anything alive are they? I'm not going to accidentally crack the ice and upset a planet, am I?"

The Doctor got up from her seat and chuckled, starting to wave her hands around the controls for a proper destination. "Oh no, we should be fine. Worst you could do on Kur-ha is stealing icicles from their temple; then the Yeti's would be very displeased. You see, the icicles are infused with small particles of pyroelectrical crystals that the water flowing down catches and freezes with, making them mesmerizing in the morning light. And when the weather heats up once a year, the icicles melt and the crystals sets off a bright electric current that makes the entire snowscape light up in gorgeous color. It's completely safe, but the species believe they came from…"

Martha had been too busy smiling while watching the eccentric Time Lady flutter around the panel to listen to the ramblings. This was how the alien woman was meant to be; not wasting time and hope away in a lab on an experiment, or marathoning trash television because she had lost a purpose and was questioning herself. She needed this kind of purpose; god forbid what would happen if she was without someone to keep her sane.

"By the way," The Doctor grabbed something from around her neck and tossed it to Martha. "You'll be needing that. Frequent flier's privilege and all."

Upon further inspection, the companion realizes what it is; a TARDIS key. She gaped at it in disbelief. "Really?"

"Really, really. Just be careful; it's part of the elite travelers pack, and I only give them to the best. There are only a couple of these babies left in the universe, and they're hell to make."

"Only a couple? With all this traveling you've done?"

"It's not like I didn't have spares! I'm not that underprepared. There were two others, but well I… I lost them." The smile turned bitter as she fidgeted with the chain hidden under her collar, "Should probably find a way to make more. It's not like I'll be getting those back."

The Doctor slipped the silver back to its spot under her shirt and smirked to Martha. "Enough of that; shouldn't you be worrying about something other than keys? You know, "get dressed in something decent, now would be preferable" ring any bells?"

Martha had a snarky reply ready on the tip of her tongue (because her preparing for their next trip would take next to no time compared to the hours it took the Doctor to get herself out of whatever funk she had been in) before she remembered something much more deadly she had to do first.

She quickly took out her phone and started typing at the keys, frowning as she turned and started walking away from the Doctor. "Oh, no. Mum."

The Doctor pouted, flicking the brake lever on the console back and forth as she waited for Martha to call Francine Jones. Just what was it with companions and their mothers? Ice skating on a frozen planet half a universe away was much more interesting than a phone call.

"It's me again. I'm sorry about earlier. Over emotional, mad day." She watched the other quiet for a minute and shift her posture, listening to her mother speak. "Yeah, tonight. Do my best. Er, just remind me. What day is it again?" Another pause. "Of course. I'll be round for tea. Roughly. Anyway, I've got to go! See you later. Love you."

"Are we skipping round the bend for tea now?" The Time Lady chuckled and shrugged her shoulders. "It's fine, if we do. Used to make pit stops so Rose could see Jackie all the time. TARDIS could use a refuel soon anyway-"

"No, it's fine." Martha snapped back while she put away her phone. She felt a tad sorry for the harsh tone, if the Doctor's curious gaze was any indication of it, but it had been a taxing day and all she wanted was to rest and not have to hear about the former companion. "This is a time machine, right? So we don't have to go straight away. All of time and space to go through first."

"Right," The final latch was pulled and the TARDIS made its grinding sound as they were thrown through the vortex, "well then. In that case, next stop: Kur-ha!"

* * *

"So I know we were expecting something different, but this isn't so bad."

"You said to dress for snow and cold."

"Yes, and we got a beach and warmth. And ice-cream. You're welcome." The two indeed were laid out on the soft sand of a small island surrounded by water, the TARDIS their only source of shade. Thin wisps of clouds trailed the sky, but that did not disturb them or the heat beaming down.

"Although a little snow would have been nice. Why is there never any snow? Is it so much to ask for?"

"While the lack of snow is a tad disappointing, I'm fine with this. But it's not Copacabana Beach. You still owe me that trip after dealing with those pirates."

"Oh, come on, that was fun! Saving the world, defeating the Scourge of the Galaxy at his prime-"

"Being kidnapped, dealing with the whole "heart's desire" thing, living with your shoddy driving."

"Oi, don't knock my driving. This could have been much worse, all things considered." The Doctor look down over into the water, considering it for a moment before scooching further from the shore. "Though I wouldn't touch the water if I were you. Pyroelectric crystals can still conduct even if they're submerged. Actually, with this much liquid, it's probably supercharged…"

"Are you saying we're sunbathing in the middle of a high voltage ocean of an abandoned planet?"

"It's a tad morbid, but if that's how you want to look at it." Martha rolled her eyes and laid back on her bundle of clothes, the plush winter coat and sweater not in use for the warm weather.

Both had been expecting snow, frozen lakes, and friendly Yeti's. When they had exited the time machine, they were faced with the fact of not only did they overshoot when they wanted by about four thousand years, but the planet had also moved a dozen meters closer to its sun during that time. Which meant the ice had gave way and melted, and the relatively safe shards the Doctor had mentioned became a death trap water hazard.

All things considered, Martha was content with the turn of events. Relative to their normal adventures anyway.

"Ah, just remembered. The planetary atmosphere shifted alongside the planet, and that brought superstorms that constantly roam the surface. Mixed with the static intensity of the water particles… well, we should probably be leaving soon." She squinted up at the sky, as if calculating from the currently calm weather, then looked closely at the sparking water gently caressing the shore. "Actually, make that in around five minutes."

And there went every decent feeling Martha had about this planet.

* * *

After throwing the clothes into the massive closet and grabbing herself a drink, she had found herself back in the so dubbed "tea-v" room. Martha closed the distance to the couches and found the Doctor already sprawled out with a book in hand, looking up at her before returning to her reading material. She took a seat on the opposite end and grabbed the remote, intent on finding something to watch until they thought of where to travel next.

"Thank you." Martha paused in her channel surfing to look over at the girl. The Doctor had lowered her book and was looking over towards the wall on her left, seemingly intent on focusing on whatever was on the television screen. "Never had the chance to really say it before. Just wanted you to know."

"Yeah… anytime. You know me; always willing to help."

"Always? I might just hold you to that in the future." Martha groaned and lightly swatted at the girl's leg that was poking into her side. While she did not mind thinking of helping the Doctor until the universe saw fit to say otherwise, it would help if the Time Lady could at least take a hint. Especially when they get to talk like this and the woman's warm eyes are staring her down so intensely and—

"When we're finished here, I was thinking of taking us to Niarus V." Martha perked out of her daydreaming and sent a questioning gaze to the Doctor. "In the 46th century it's got a lovely marketplace; hundreds of species visit there, no one will even bat an eye that you're human. Well, as long as you stay away from the black market section; don't want you to lose any of your important bits. I have to pick up a part for the TARDIS while were there, but it's a treat to visit.

"Then who knows." The Doctor grinned, sitting up to crack her stiff joints. ""All of space and time" you said, right?"

* * *

Edit 11/13/16: So. Decided to clean this chapter up a little bit, while I was working on chapter four. If anything, it can put my neurotic ass to rest.


	3. Humanity 101

Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related series are owned by the BBC and their respective writers. Seeing as how I'm not even from the U.K, it's a good assumption I have nothing to do with its ownership. Which means I get nothing from this.

A/N: Honestly, I have no excuse for why this has taken so long. Like, it was actually relatively easy planning, and a lot of it came while I was writing. It's probably late from me not being completely pleased with how the last chapter came out and my dumb odd work hours. I might go back and fix up Chapter 2 when I can. Hopefully this chapter and a special early cameo from an important character will make up for it. Yay, Human Nature episodes! We shall see how this turns out; it's basically writing itself now, and punching me in the face anytime something different wants to happen from what was planned.

* * *

The two had been browsing through trinkets and clothing at a dank little stall on Niarus V when she noticed it.

Time Lords, a species intimately connected with chronon energy since the beginnings of the loom, could occasionally sense occurring nearby shifts when the time-space rift opened. Traces of the vortex always clung tightly to whatever went through and were easy to pick up on. The Doctor had felt it with her own TARDIS and on the wrist of her prior con-man companion, although it was much smoother and tidier with the blue ship than the pill-box watch.

Not many had the technology for a temporal shift; sure they were easy enough to make, but difficult to perfect for a normal species. Emergency temporal shifts always ended up a disaster compared to a decent take-off, which was much like when Martha and the Doctor had dealt with the Cult of Sarko in New York months prior. They always left a mess, little tears in the fabrics of the universe that took forever to heal, and let anything fly through to whatever time the rift took them.

Something just carelessly traveled through the rift and landed in close proximity. It felt like a botched accident, as if someone had used a serrated knife to slice flesh, unlike the TARDIS or careful complexity which Jack wielded the manipulator. No one would use such a way to travel unless it was dire.

The hairs on the Doctor's neck stood to attention and she stopped listening to Martha's prattling about the silks and clothes presented on the models they should buy for her (She should show Martha pictures of her prior selves and see if the woman keeps complaining about the pinstripe).

That meant this was not from Time Lord or Dalek origin then; they would know what to do for a proper travel, which meant Time Agent. But even the newest recruit knew how to properly use a vortex manipulator. Okay, so stolen technology. That was never good.

"Martha," The woman scanned the bustling crowd, trying to find the disturbance. There appeared to be a minor commotion a bit away near the ship docks, between an outposted Judoon and a set of children; a teenage boy and little girl. The was an odd look in their eyes; like they were not focusing on the sentient rhino in front of them, but rather trying to look for something in the throng of customers. "I think we should start heading out."

"Mhm? What'd you say?" The companion hadn't bothered glancing up from the line of scarves on the counter, not noticing the sudden tension. "Hey, what do you think? The red or the blue?"

"Mauve; looks lovely with your complexion. More to the point, we should really be leaving."

The crowd had silenced around them as two other Judoon officers approached the pair with an intimidating sway. She could see the boy smirking as the initial Judoon held up the state-of-the-art scanner toward the two. Her breath held as she waited for the police rhino to speak.

"Confirmed. Status: Wanted. Family of Blood, of the Rhiniau species. Charged with multiple accounts of murder, and recent escape from the Atraxi Prison."

"Guilty as charge, gentlemen. However, we have a Time Lord to find. So sorry," A burst of green light exploded and the scanning Judoon blew away in the air as dust, the female child giggling as the older male had brandished a type of energy gun, "nothing personal."

Cries of alarm pierced out as the crowd ran frantic, the remaining Judoon trying to subdue the two, possibly more, criminals. "Martha, come on!" The Doctor grabbed hold of Martha's wrist and dragged her around the corner toward the time machine that had thankfully been parked close by, the strip of cloth from the booth clung tightly around the human doctor's neck.

"Time Lord!" One of them, the boy, had rounded the corner and set off an energy shot at them. They had slammed the door to the police box tightly as the blast shot overhead, hitting the top of the console router. The TARDIS, distressed by the damage and worry over her kidnapper and companion, set off the ringing of the Cloister Bell.

"Did they see you?" The Doctor grabbed hold of Martha's arms and checked her over for injuries.

"I don't know! I was too busy running!"

"But did they see you?" She looked into the other woman's eyes urgently, fearing she didn't understand the issue.

"No, they couldn't have." She had been wearing the scarf; the solid material and color would have hidden her features.

"Off we go then!" The Doctor flicked the controls, letting the TARDIS travel wherever she deemed safe enough for them. She had only hoped she had been wrong about how they worked a temporal shift…

A warning beep overcomes the sound of the ringing bell. The two quickly look to the monitor; Martha knows she can't read the Gallifreyan language, but the one who can translate it lets out an irritated click of the tongue and rushes back around the panel. "Dammit! They're following us!"

"How can they do that?" She was dubious at even the notion of it. "You've got a time machine."

"It's as I thought," she commented offhandedly while tweaking the knobs and pull stations, "stolen technology, they've got a Time Agent's vortex manipulator. They don't know how to use it to its fullest potential, but they'll follow us wherever we go, right across the universe…"

The Doctor had heard vaguely of the species; Rhiniau had a gaseous form, and were short lived; usually less than a year. They could overtake sentient forms; live in a body as a shadow until it gave out in an attempt to keep their lives going. All they wanted was immortality- they must have thought a Time Lord's life would be perfect for that. They weren't wrong.

And assuming they were willing to kill anyone in the way to get that life force, she didn't think they'd quit. Not until one side was dead. "... They're never going to stop."

She ran fingers through her tousled hair and down her face with an exasperated groan. This Family was like a pack of hounds during a fox hunt; once they got a scent- quite literally- they would track them to the ends of time itself. So assuming they lost their form (the Judoons did have excellent execution skills), and were already old enough to be weaponized and escape an institution for their charges, it would take around three months of avoidance until they eventually died off. But they would only hunt more viciously as their death dates were coming closer.

' _Unless there were no Time Lords to hunt…'_ The Doctor paused, her eyes widening as she looked to the drawers attached to the control panel. "Martha, do you trust me?"

The human looked at her counterpart strangely, startled by the question. "You know I do."

"I mean it. 'Cause this will depend all on you."

"What does?" Martha watched as the Doctor scrambled under the control board, fumbling with what sounded like dozens of odd knickknacks, before resurfacing with an ornate silver fob watch.

"I need you to take care of this watch. Now this is the important bit; the watch is me."

She takes the out held device and nods absentmindedly as the Doctor flipped a few more switches. Upon hitting the last one something akin to a headset falls and dangles in the air before them. "Right, okay, gotcha… no, hold on. Completely lost."

"The Rhiniau are hunters, constantly sniffing out their next potential host to expand their life. Most stick to lesser sentient beings on their home planet, except this family evolved and wanted more. Me, being a Time Lord, well, I'm top of the menu. They get my essence, they could live for hundreds of years, maybe longer. They'll track us through time and space to get it."

"And the good news is…?"

"They know my scent; doesn't mean they know what we look like. So change my scent and wait for them to die off. It'll take three months, I'm guessing."

"Yeah, okay, but how're you going to do that. It's not like you can change being a Time Lord."

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," The Doctor took a deep breath, and Martha could tell she was as nervous as she was serious by the way her knuckles turned pale from her tight grip on the console, "I'm going to become human."

* * *

"Come on, boy! If the Captain is angry with us for being late, we're blaming it on you!"

"Yes sir, coming!"

Timothy Latimer was used to the bullying from his schoolmates. They poked and prodded and pushed, always sticking him with the chores they never wanted to do and to give them high marks on their papers by writing them. Hutchinson was especially cruel about it, wondering why the little waif attached himself so fiercely to the group of friends, usually laughing at him about it. It seemed, on some occasions, that it was his personal mission to make the young boy as miserable as possible.

The teachers of the Farringham School for Boys, old fashioned as they were, never bothered addressing the issue. Latimer had never given them any incentive to analyze why he held himself back in studies, and they fully believed it was good experience for the lad to become a man. The only one to show him compassion was the Captain; the one currently charged with the militia forces stationed at the school to prepare them for future battles.

His "reprimands" were usually to tell Timothy he had better things to do than saddle himself with dormitory mates that always blamed him, and then feed him scones and talk about old war stories. For a man so seemingly youthful, there was wisdom in his words that was much older than the teachers here.

"Latimer! On the double! You know how he gets!"

Balancing the collection of school books in his arms and in his bag, Latimer attempted to pick up the pace as carefully as he could. They would arrive late, the Captain would roll his eyes at the boys' antics, he would finish classes for the day and then spend the evening being "disciplined" by the soldier, and off to bed. An ordinary day.

Until, midway down the road to the shooting fields, his intuition told him to go right, down into the forest through a beaten overgrown path. Something felt off, like there was a disturbance in the peaceful grove through the forest.

Never one to question these feelings, more often than not being correct to listen, the books in his arms plummeted to the ground and he ran veering through the trees, ignoring the cries of Hutchinson and Baines to get back and how tardy they were going to be.

He ran for what felt like hours, letting his feet lead to where his mind was trying to follow. Through the trees and over roots he went until the boy eventually, after what was in actuality only a couple moments, found a grassy clearing somewhere in a corner of Cooper's Field and quickly located what he had been searching for.

He was closely followed by his two classmates, them loudly complaining in the serene environment. "For God's sake, Latimer! What in the world has gotten into you…?"

The two looked up from brushing themselves off and followed Latimer's gaze from his lack of response, silencing in awe at what they found. They were expecting one of Latimer's ridiculous games, or maybe the boy had heard something for cause of concern about an impending attack.

What they found were two young women, one of whom was sitting on the grass, cradling the other's scarf wrapped head resting on her lap. Normally they wouldn't have thought anything on the matter; women and their ways were still odd to the teenage boys, and society allowed them to be more affectionate with each other than men could.

Hutchinson punched Latimer's shoulder, intent on making him apologize for his outlandish behavior. He looked into the face of the darker skinned woman, about to apologize for their colleague, and realized something was off by her panicked expression. He noticed her hands were not holding so much as applying pressure to the brown haired woman's head, and the light purple cloth was turning bloodied maroon with each second.

"Please, we need help."

* * *

The first thing she realized was something was wrong. Something was very, _very_ wrong.

She felt empty.

The woman did not have to open her eyes to feel the striking pain on the side of her forehead, nor did it take much to deduce the soft feeling she was laying on was a mattress, comforting and clean. There was what felt to be a cold compress on her head, and she was dressed in what felt to be a comfortable linen nightgown.

Voices were heard, low enough she could not understand what they were saying but close enough if she were to call for help they would be there in a heartbeat. The scent of hydrogen peroxide and iodine with far away smelling salts perforated her senses, and she whimpered at the combined strength of the medicinal smells.

The whispering halted, and there suddenly was an older man's voice speaking next to her ear. "I believe she's becoming conscious. Ma'am?"

She did not reply to the voice, trying to figure out why something felt so decisively wrong. She felt empty, like something had been missing. Not a tangible item, but something from the depths of the recesses of her mind tucked just out of reach.

"Ma'am? Can you hear me?"

There! It took the form of a little golden light, so close as if she could reach out and grab it. It wanted to return to her, whatever this luminescent memory was. In her mind she tried reaching out for the tiny flame; it was so warm and inviting and, for a moment, she felt it trying to attach to her as well.

She was so close to grabbing it. Just a little further-

"Ma'am?" An unsuspected touch to her arm startled and distracted her mind, blanking her out for a moment to refocus on her surroundings. The light flickered away into the black nothingness.

And, with wetness she did not understand on her lashes, Jane Smith startled awake, eyes flying open and gasping as if it was her first breath.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, her dear Martha showed up at the foot of her bed the moment the medical staff left her alone, pulling up a chair to sit next to her. The concern and worry were evident on her face, along with the dark circles under her eyes, but were overshadowed by joy. "Good to see you conscious. How are you feeling?"

Jane groaned and dropped her head back onto the pillows, picking at the linen head wrap covering the wound near her hairline. "About as well as expected. The doctor explained it was superficial, but would most likely scar. Not as bad as the time with Mr. Cornell's and Mr. Palmer's farms, at least." She chuckled, Martha throwing her a wary look. "This is not what I expected to have happen."

"Little ever happens the way we wish it to," a masculine voice echoed from where her dear companion stood moments before, "such is the way of life, unfortunately." The man, with mustache trimmed neatly and glasses in place, inclined his head to them. "Headmaster Rocastle, at your service."

"Nurse Jane Smith, at yours."

"Our students found you injured in Cooper's Field. Your maid explained to us the details-bandits in such a peaceful area, attacking and stealing from unsuspecting ladies- it's despicable."

"I'm sorry," Martha chimed in, shifting in her seat as she twirled a tassel of hair, "they took almost everything we had. I was too busy protecting us to salvage anything from them, and with your head..."

Jane glanced at Martha strangely, scrunching her eyes at the other. Martha guiltily looked to the side. "Right…"

This all went unnoticed by the Headmaster, who glanced at the clock and cleared his throat. "It was a commendable act, miss. Unfortunately I must be off, but the Matron and I have made the decision you and your maid may be in our care until your wound heals, if you should see fit. We are taking precautions and watching the roads as well, so I would say stand-by and rest while you can. Now, I bid you both a good evening." And with that he turned and left.

The two women sat for a moment, watching where the professional leader left, Martha twisting her hands and Jane in silent contemplation.

"Why'd you lie?" Martha looked over to her. "That could have happened, but I do not recall any bandits swooping in. Not to mention all your nervous lying ticks are acting up. Really Martha, do you think I know you so little?"

The girl let out a defeated sigh, knowing she was caught. "Well, what do you remember?"

Jane opened her mouth to reply, but found nothing came out. It was as if all memories between them on the road to her stuck in a hospital bed had disappeared from her mind. "Running," she carefully replied, "the two of us, constantly running, the thrill of it. Leaving the loneliness and distress of home. Then… nothing."

"Really Miss, trust me when I say it's for the best you don't remember. At least not right now." She smiled and held tightly to her hand, before letting go and standing to leave. "Besides, we came here looking for a fresh start, remember? It's quite a lovely area..."

"A fresh start… Martha, are you suggesting I become domestic?"

"Perish the thought, Miss," The maid let out a giggle and rolled her eyes at the balking woman, used to the complaints of living a boring household life, "I'm just suggesting it might be good for us to stay in one place for a bit. Get ourselves settled with what to do next."

Her eyes glazed in thought, remembering what had brought them there. Her parents would be pleased she could start anew, rather than go back to wallowing in grief of an empty house and life in Nottingham. And she had her dear friend by her side; what could be the harm?

Jane looked up to Martha with a large grin, needing no more convincing. "Alright, a fresh start it is then."

* * *

It had been a couple weeks since the two appeared out of thin air at the school. The woman, once recovered enough to carry on as normal, was effortlessly hired and started as soon as possible in the medical department, per the request of Rocastle and the Matron Redfern. The school was in dire need of staff and both remembered the way Jane introduced herself as a nurse. The Matron, surprised with extent of knowledge on practices and procedures the girl had, suggested to hire her on the spot. The Headmaster had no complaints, as she had been able to prove her said credentials with paperwork her maid had and using the information practically.

Martha had been a completely separate story. While Rocastle was hesitant on breaking traditions and hiring the servant however, expressing his concerns of propriety and public image to the nurse, Jane was not about to back down.

"Excuse me, sir," She crisply cut in one conversation with him, startling Rocastle with how chilling it was, "Martha may be under the employ of my house, but she chose to do so willingly and for decent wage. If I do accept this position, she is to be respected. She was very dear to my family, and I will be very cross if anything happens to her physical or emotional well being. Do I make myself clear, Headmaster?"

Her voice was soft but concise, betrayed by something that was so freezing cold it could burn. Never before had he been so intimidated by someone, much less a woman. "Completely clear, Ms. Smith. We pride our boys to become men with respect and chivalry, no matter race, gender, or position. Ms. Jones and you shall have nothing to fear during your stay."

"Excellent," She visibly relaxed and offered him a tentative smile, "I just worry. It has been only the two of us for a while and I care deeply for her. But enough of societal matters," she waved her hand to dismiss the conversation, "tell me more about this nurse opening."

"If you should choose to accept the offer, a residential room will be provided for you close to the medical wing for easy access should an emergency arise. It carries all the essentials for comfortable living. Outside of working hours you may do as you please, so long as the reputation of this establishment stays intact. Propriety and decorum in all areas."

"And Martha?"

"Ms. Jones will also be given her own room and may work with the janitorial crew if she deems fit. Normally the cleaning staff does not interact with the other departments, but given the circumstances, we can make arrangements for Ms. Jones to visit you anytime you both are unengaged with the job. All information about the position itself you may ask after the Matron for."

And that was the end of that. Jane Smith was hired by the Farringham School for Boys, with the stipulation of Martha also being able to work for a decent wage and the two able to see each other when work was done for the day.

While she was content with the way life was turning out, it had made it increasingly difficult to find the time away to relax. It was amazing how many of the boys feigned injury to skip class, or suffer bruises and scrapes for a small bit of comfort. She had enjoyed meeting each student and learning as much as she could, but Jane had treasured the moments where she could rest.

She spent her off days collecting books from the scholars to create a sort of small library, or inviting Martha to tea when the servant's chores had been completed for the day. The brunette was not opposed to social norms; she simply would prefer quieter activities that could let her think.

That is why, on more than one occasion, she found herself making the mile long trek into town to gather supplies when the department ran low. The other nursing staff always put up a gripe about it, but she personally enjoyed the serenity of a good trip in the quiet mornings.

Martha, the sweet dear she was, had been insistent she follow along to help with any bags so as not to strain herself. She knew the girl was especially kind hearted and only looking out for her, but Jane felt she needed a reprieve from the constant attention. She had politely waved the girl off; it was nothing that would worsen her head injury, and she did not want the other to be in trouble for skipping chores.

It had been meant to be a simple, quick trip.

* * *

The brisk morning air sliced against Jane's face as she stepped onto the sidewalk, bags in hand from the store she just left. The woman had hoped for the warmer September weather to flow into the early part of the following month, but alas as the leaves were giving way to orange and ice and frost had started forming during the chilling nights.

The nurse shifted all the handles into one palm as she tried pulling her scarf, dyed a redder color from the accident, over her face to escape the bitter air, which were her first two mistakes. The third was that she had closed her eyes to stop the stinging of a sudden wind rushing by, stubbornly continuing walking up the road to get back in a timely manner.

The final mistake was that she had not seen the patch of ice mere steps in front of her. Nor did she realize someone else was already there.

She felt herself hit something that felt like a solid blockade, which sent her fist holding the scarf to crush the tip of Jane's nose against the woven material. She had taken a step back to rub her pained nostrils, until she realized her feet were slipping out from under her due to early morning ice and she was falling to the side that held all the recent purchases. Her opposite hand lashed out against whatever was in front of her and she took a firm hold of something soft under her gloves.

Until whatever she had grabbed ended up following her descent and landed on top of her with a groan, that is.

She laid there for a moment, trying to recover whatever wind had been knocked out of her due to the others fall landing directly on her midsection, before steeling herself and pushing at whoever had been resting on her.

She did not account that her shoving would interrupt the momentum of the person working on moving up from her, which sent legs skating against the frozen puddle and land back on her with a thump.

Thinking better for the both of them, the man ('Definitely male.' She surmised when she felt broad shoulders and a large frame pushed against her from the second fall) rolled off her which let her have a chance to take a deep breath, iris' concealed in pain from the force of the landings.

"I'm used to people falling for me, but it's never been quite this literal." A baritone voice chuckled from beside her. After a moment she felt the tops of her arms grabbed as the person attempted pulling her up to her feet.

She got up with help from the stranger, an apology ready on her tongue, before she stared straight into striking familiar blue eyes.

"Are you okay?" She was startled out of her thoughts (Images of gas masks, laughing and dancing, and agony of a goodbye feeling too final) and looks at him, concern etched into his face from her visibly shaken posture. He joked, "I was just trying to say hello."

The man smiles when she snaps out of it and lightly scoffs, backing away to give her space when she can stand on her own. "I bet you say that to all the women."

"Well, you're not completely wrong." He dismissed the topic with a shrug before she could question further. "You look familiar. Do you work up at the school?" He motioned to her uniform, designed by the facility to wear during work.

"Yes, I just started there three weeks ago. Medical ward."

"Ah! You're the woman Latimer found! The new nurse, right?" He snaps his fingers with a sudden proud epiphany. "There's been talk from the men; saying there's this pretty little thing that does one hell of a job with a stitch."

"And you must be the gentleman from the military regiment the woman all talk about."

"They talk about me?" He asked, surprise lit across his expression.

"No."

He barked out a laugh and started collecting her bags from the ground, waving hands away when they tried to grab the handles. "Cheeky, I like it. This place can do with a little less pomp and circumstance. Were you about to head back to the school, Misses…?"

"Oh, just Miss." She noticed her immediate mistake when his grin twisted gleefully at the accidental implication. "Ah, Jane- Nurse Smith. Not that you can't call me Jane if you want- wait, that's improper. Uh…" She took a breath to calm down her progressively darkening face. "Please forget it. I was just about to head back, yes. Are you?"

"With such a lovely companion, how can I not?" Thank God the soldier decided not to comment on her blunder, although the smug presence remained. She rolled her eyes and smiled, ignoring the embarrassed heat in her cheeks and the way the word 'companion' rang in her head.

"I heard your group was practicing drills for the boys today. Is it right for you to be missing them?"

"Well I do hope the lower officers can handle the boring task of watching boys attempt to shoot a gun. I have much more important things to handle; like protecting a beautiful woman from the dangerous streets of Farringham. Literally, it seems."

"Sir, has anyone ever told you how to play coy when it came to the nuances of flirting?"

"They might have. Though currently I'm finding it increasingly difficult to remember."

He chuckled at the annoyed groan the woman at his side shot him, and before they knew it they had been so lost in conversation they failed to notice they had walked their way back to the school. The soldier had insisted on carrying the bags of supplies up to the hospital wing with her, and all too quickly they found themselves standing at the entrance of the hall.

"Well, "Miss-Jane-Nurse-Smith", I believe this is your stop." He gently passed the luggage into the girl's waiting arms and stepped back. "It has been an eventful morning, but I should go check on the target practice. Lord knows those men need a captain around to keep them in line."

"Oh, so you're a _captain_ now, are you?

"Last I checked. And this so called captain is wondering if he might be able to call on you again?"

She was startled, looking at his face to see what kind of joke he was trying to play. While a small smile was there, there was nothing to suggest he was being anything but serious about the question. "Isn't that a little forward and assuming of you?"

"What can I say? I'm a forward-thinking kind of man." Judging from the way he smirked, there must have been some kind of inside joke she missed. "And maybe assuming is too strong a word; more like hopeful you'll say yes."

She was unsure how to feel. Sure he was nice enough, albeit overly flirty for her tastes, but they had only just met. She did not even know his name. And normally she felt she would have just waved him off; she had never thought well of war, which encompassed the soldiers that fought in them. He was just another one of them.

"Buy me a drink first."

Today was apparently a day of surprises, because she had no idea where _that_ came from. If she was honest she did not even care for drinking much, but the thumping in the back of her mind had been appeased by the sentence.

Had the situation been less awkward, Jane would have laughed at the way his eyes bulged from their sockets from her comment. "Such hard work," he carefully replied after a moment, as if the sentence alone would scare her away.

"Oh yes, but worth it."

All that was heard were the leftover occasional voices of students and staff lingering from down the halls as they stood silently. The soldier gazed at her with guarded, but curious, scrutiny as she nervously fidgeted with the bags in her arms.

"Captain Jack Harkness." The soldier finally regarded her with a bright grin, eyes sparkling in mirth. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Smith."

"Same to you, Captain. I shall see you again."

With a final incline of the head at her reply, he turned and made his exit down the hall. Jack looked back at her once on his way off, about-facing and continuing his trek with a grin upon seeing the way her mouth quaintly upturned at his antic.

The door to the infirmary clicked firmly shut behind Jane while she placed the purchases on the table to sort before returning to work. And if the staff or students questioned her more pleasant than normal attitude for the day, she would chalk it up to how enjoyably warm she had been that morning, even with the below normal temperatures.

* * *

Again, sorry for this taking for friggin ever. I'm assuming you all still like it though, what with the view/visitor count and some of you favoriting/following, even with the shitty time that was Chapter 2. Hopefully this makes up for it. /Flips laptop off bed


	4. Nature Versus Nurture

Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related series are owned by the BBC and their respective writers. Seeing as how I'm not even from the U.K, it's a good assumption I have nothing to do with its ownership. Which means I get nothing from this.

WORDS ARE HARD AND I DON'T LIKE THEM. I have been stuck on this chapter for months. It was easier writing half a chapter for way down the line; like, fuckin _End of Time_ down the line, if this even goes that far. Work and life have been rough too, and most of my writing lately has been resumes and applications. So I'm sorry for hitting my first official writer's block and for the horrid wait. If it sucks, that's totally my bad as well.

In other news, I like to think of the last chapter as Jack Harkness popping up and being like "SURPRISE BITCH". It seems you guys enjoy the fact he's here a bit early, so that's good.

Too bad he's not sticking around for long.

* * *

There were times, more often than not as of late, where Jane Smith found herself exhausted.

October midterms had finally hit the school, and with it came intense anxiety and sickness in the form of blubbering teenage boys. They came in droves, sniffling noses and tears in their eyes as they described the symptoms; most commonly headaches, constant tiredness, nausea, rashes, and everything in between. One had even tried using the excuse of the Black Death. She enjoyed putting a stop to that case easy enough, going into such gruesome detail of the effects plague that one boy tinged green when she mentioned the lesions.

The nurse was not naive, for she knew from the teachers the only way to put off an exam was for family or medical circumstances, and there were those that would be willing to play the system for a little extra study time. Never one to turn any away, she would offer them a sugar pill and something for the anxiety and send them back on track, most grumbling about still having to attend class the following day.

Then there were those, such as a young Timothy Latimer currently seated across from her, that needed more than a simple placebo.

"I've just been very worried, miss," cheeks red with fever and darkened drooping eyes, the boy looked in a right pathetic state, "there has been lots of work to do, so I kept putting off coming to see you. I know how busy it's been."

"Master Latimer, never assume we are too busy to see for a case, whether truthful or otherwise." Jane scolded to boy briefly, stirring ingredients into the boiling kettle. She had been expecting a night off, as she had been working on a constant basis, but it turned out the nurses sent the poor dear to her personal room down the hall. She hadn't been able to turn him away when he mentioned specifically asking for her. "And especially with a fever as high as yours."

He sniffled, trying to clear his throat. "That's what the kind maid friend of yours said, but I still didn't want to be a bother."

The mixing continued as she turned to look at him, brief surprise lighting her face. "Ms. Jones told you to come here?"

"Yes, ma'am. And the Captain, and Nurse Oswin and the others. They said you take care of everyone that needs it. Never turns anyone away."

"Well, yes, but-" Humble as ever, the woman trained her eyes elsewhere, fingers working on pouring the tea. "I mean, I'm just doing my duty. Besides, if anything, I should thank you for taking care of me." He glanced at her, confused. She soon sat and gave him the finished beverage, content at the warmth it gave her palms from the chilly day. "You were the one who found us, correct? Ms. Jones and I?"

"Uh-huh, but it was Baines and Hutchinson that-"

"I know what they did. Those boys may have went to get help, but you stayed with us. I could have been in a much worse state," she placed her own finished cup into its holder, lifting a hand to feel through the growing short hair and the fresh scar across her hairline, "but luckily that is not the case, thanks to you and Ms. Jones."

The boy's cheeks turned a darker blush from embarrassment as she went to pick up the porcelain, Latimer having gulped his down right away. As she was leaning down, a knocking was heard from the door. Both paused, glancing at each other in momentary confusion, before turning back to the door. "Hello?"

The knob turned and opened to reveal the gleaming grin of Captain Harkness, face brightening behind the lapels of his greatcoat noticing the two inside. "Ms. Smith."

"Ah, Captain. I wasn't expecting you this evening. To what do we owe the esteemed pleasure of your grace?" A smirk played on her face and Jack rolled his eyes.

"Hope I'm not intruding- I was passing by and thought I'd bring this down. You forgot it last time you visited." He handed a medium sized bag to her from the doorway, nodding his head over to Latimer in acknowledgement. Timothy smiled back as enthusiastic as any sick child could.

She looked suspiciously inside the parcel and gazed through its contents. Realizing what it was after examining, she let out an exasperated groan. "Captain Harkness, while I appreciate the gesture, I cannot help but wonder why exactly you thought I would need," she looked back inside the bag but for a second, and lifted her gaze to him with a deadpan expression, "a gun. Wrapped in what appears to be my scarf."

The bag was quickly taken from her, the mauve with bleeding pink gradient gift from Martha practically thrown at her face as Jack quickly takes the gun away. "Sorry!" He laughs nervously, trying to sheath the weapon into the paper wrap. "Forgot I stuck that in there. You left it at the training field and I just wanted to make sure you had it. I know it's late-"

"Captain, relax." Jane raised a hand to slow him down, cradling the fabric in her arm. She huffed after further consideration of it, seeing the black residue of what appeared to be gunpowder stained into the surface. That, much like the blood that originally ruined it, would never come out. "While it is nice to have this back, albeit wishing it was in better condition, the scarf is not the issue."

They both knew what she was alluding to; since meeting him the few weeks prior, the captain had made excuses to see her at least once a day. The company was welcome, and it was easy to find a synced work system both were comfortable with. They fell into a routine, as old friends would, laughing as he continued to passively flirt and she would roll her eyes and quip back with sarcasm.

Neither would admit to the soldier becoming more relaxed with each visit in her presence, or how his face would soften when he watched her work. They refused to comment on how she would say the oddest things that left her confused but him with a melancholic gleam in his eyes, or how her verbal retaliations were sounding more affectionate and as if she were looking forward to them daily. How scarves were intentionally left behind on the training field to be brought back, or food left in rooms after a particularly hard day for either, or bickering louder than the shots from the trainees guns. It became a hot gossip among the staff of all departments.

And, of course, both ignored and denied everything said about the subject.

"You're right, I apologize." The tension was broken by his nonchalant shrug, accompanied by the so called famous smirk. "I forgot about your unfortunate temperament for guns."

If there were anything that made the two banter to make situations less awkward, it was how different their opinion was on certain subjects; specifically about the use of weapons. It was one of the usual back-and-forth battles when they were particularly annoyed with the other.

"Oh, don't start that again." She threw him a look of mild irritation. "They're just so unnecessary. Gun's can seriously damage your health, you know!"

"Is that purely medical answer?"

"Shut up." She flicked her hand in Jack's direction. "All I'm saying is don't listen to him, Timothy. Words can do much more than any weapon can."

"And where words don't work, they're a great back up." He gave the young boy an innocent grin, eyes twinkling in glee from the way the words could rile the nurse up. Latimer, who had been watching the interaction and knew of their occasional bickering, could only smile widely.

"So says the American military man with a weapon fetish." She drily commented, not bothering to turn from the boy and give a pointed stare. "Was there something else you actually needed, Captain Harkness? Or may I be able to finish my job without unnecessary opinions?"

"No, just wanted to visit my favorite nurse. And return your scarf." The soldier rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I am sorry about the powder stains and the gun. Neither were intentional. Not fully so, anyway."

"No harm done, I suppose. The poor thing has long since seen better days." Jane shrugged and placed it on the bureau, next to the ornate pocket watch gifted by her father before his death- one of the few things she had from before that hadn't been taken. "Although I must admit, the current color is an improvement, even under the bloody circumstances. One of my favorite shades, actually."

"What, pink?"

"No," She mumbled offhandedly, as if she weren't fully paying attention while her hand softly weaved through the material, "I prefer to think of it as rose."

"Rose…?"

"Mhm, it's such a soft, lovely color in my opinion. Although blue is brilliant too, come to think of it." A loud clatter startled the nurse out of her thoughts, and she quickly turned to see Jack scrambling to pick up the gun that fell to the floor. "Captain? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, no, I, uh- I should be going." He shoved the weapon unceremoniously into the bag, skin paler than normal as he tried to sidestep her to exit the room. "Just remembered I had paperwork to do. The others will have my head if it's late. It's improper for me to be in a ladies room so late anyway-"

"Jack, what is it?" The man jerked at hearing his first name from her lips, her imploring gaze the only thing stalling him at the door frame. It took a full minute of looking away and biting his lip before he was able to respond.

"Nothing to worry your gorgeous head about." He breathed deep, making an attempt to compose himself, "I just… I think I need to see someone about a doctor."

Before she could get another word in edgewise he was gone, leaving the nurse confused and tinged with worry.

"Is Captain Harkness sick, ma'am? He didn't look well." Jane turned to the young lad seated in the chair, face more alert and already showing signs of improvement.

"To my knowledge, no." She paused, looking at the door considering and gave the small woolen coat to the child. "Although I'm sure a visit to a doctor would do wonders to his mental health."

Latimer slipped it on and buttoned it up, a far too coy smile for a sick child forming on his face. "You know, sometimes after you both are together, he mumbles about a doctor. But I think what he really needs is a good nurse."

The nurse gazed sharply at the lad, tension lacing her shoulders and sputtering, "Latimer, what are you-"

"Nothing, miss. Just that you might want to talk with him. I know he likes talking with you."

The two stood on a type of standoff, one still looking too smug on the subject and the other with ears growing progressively more red. "I think it's about time to get you to bed." Jane broke the contact, hurriedly pulling on her own jacket, "I'll walk you. Allons-y."

"What does that mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"Allons-y. You just said it."

A break of silence as she stopped at the doorway, confusion tinging her eyebrows. "Did I? I… I'm sorry. I'm not completely sure. Just felt right to say."

"Ah, okay. Thank you, Miss."

* * *

While Martha loved traveling with the Doctor and everything that had come with it up to this point, she came to a realization; she never wanted to revisit 1913 A.D. rural England ever again.

Life was nothing extravagant during her normal, boring timeline back in 2008. Most time was spent studying to accomplish degrees and fulfill requirements for graduations. Hard work and determination helped raise her above any challenges that stood in the way, and had gained earned respect from colleagues and mentors alike. Difficult family arrangements usually kept her more focused on pursuing goals and out into focus what she wanted out of life.

Meeting the Doctor changed her life. There had been opportunities unending and a chance to learn her medical and surgical practice in real world applications. An entire library was at her disposal in the TARDIS, where she could easily read for hours without a care or worry. She had met a true friend (although if being truthful Martha did like the other more than such), and was invited to go traveling and be shown everything there was to the universe and beyond. And they were having so much fun along the way.

At least, until Narius V and being forced to hide away in an era she was only just barely tolerating. It was such a regression, having to be stuck in a place of strict societal rules and regulations, treated in such a disrespectful manner simply because of skin tone and gender. She may not be as clever as the Doctor, but the nurses of the early twentieth century couldn't even hold a candle compared to even her early schooling in high school.

And yet there she was. Tirelessly scrubbing floors, prissy school boys half her age harassing and joking at her expense, the Doctor turned human with no memory of their adventures, and still hiding from an alien race with an obsession for immortality. Stuck in 1913, with at least another two months before they could leave.

She didn't care how much she loved the Time Lord; the Doctor owed her so big after this.

Martha held down her annoyance and continued working at a spot refusing to come up off the floor. She wasn't sure how this could get much worse.

A low, drawn out whistle was heard over the shuffling of school boys rushing to their next classes somewhere over to her right. She looked over towards the grand stairwell, noticing the figure in the looming trench coat immediately. The way he stared at her was unnerving, a critical eye analyzing her up and down.

"Excuse me, sir," she offered, "is there something I can help you with?"

His gaze snapped up to her face, lips upturned in a lazy, unconcerned grin. "Sorry ma'am, I have trouble focusing when there is such a sight to behold."

That threw her through a loop; as far as she knew, it was strange enough for a man of this time to be so daring, let alone one of a higher post to be talking casually with a 'lowly servant girl'. It was refreshing, a modern response she was used to. "Well sir, if I may be so bold, keep your thoughts out of the gutters."

"I'll be sure to remember that for next time." He chuckled and walked towards Martha, his posture slightly tense as she threw the dirty rag she'd been cleaning with into the bucket and stood to her feet. "Ms. Jones, right?"

"That depends who's asking."

"Captain Jack Harkness. I'm in command for the army training." He put out his hand, which she tentatively shook. Of course she had heard about him; he was the talk of all the staff, including the humanized Doctor. 'Jane' had mentioned him in some of their tea time rendezvous. She had to admit, he was as attractive as everyone said."I just had a few questions I've been meaning to ask about, and it seems you might be the only one for the job, if it's not too much trouble."

"Okay then, about what?"

"You and Nurse Smith." He quickly put up a hand as a means to sooth Martha, her eyes had widened and she turned tense. "Students and staff are an overflowing well of gossip, and I had heard from them you were found with her. I assumed you both are close- she mentions you enough."

"I'm not at liberty to talk about the lady's life-"

"It's just some standard routine things, honest. General safety and security for the school." A moment of silence lasted between the two, until Martha finally nodded her head, biting her lip in anxiety. "What is your relationship with the Miss?"

"I'm her maid; have been for a while now."

"Where did you both travel from?"

"Nottingham. Her parents have just recently passed; within the last year. She wanted a new life, asked me to come with her, so we left to travel."

"Did you both travel often before coming here? It seems dangerous, letting two women like yourselves travel alone."

"Often enough. It's a bit of a hobby, actually." Jack opened his mouth, intent on elaboration, before she continued. "We have never really run into issue, until this past trip, we like to keep it safe, and it was always so exciting seeing new places and meeting people. She talked me into it at first, but every moment has been fantastic. Of course, most of it prior was for her education, but we both truly enjoy it."

"You make it sound like you have been all over. Where have you gone?"

"Oh, well, you know. A bit of Scotland, some of Ireland. Mostly Cardiff and London, to be honest. Can't wait until we get back out on the road."

"Back on the road, to Cardiff? Right, because that sounds like such an adventure." They both shared a chuckle. "Places aside, aren't you both tired of traveling? I don't mean to assume or get into personal matters, but the Miss seems content here. And one reason for traveling is to find a place you belong, isn't it?"

"Well we can't stop." The Captain gave her a confused look. "No, really, we can't. Eventually, we both will have to leave. She might not remember right now from her injury, but we're needed elsewhere. We can't stay in one place, especially here."

"Why? What's so bad about here?"

"I dunno. Traveling and helping anyone that needs it, that makes her happy." Martha paused for a second and bit her lip again. She really needed to stop doing that. "To be honest, I've always thought it's because she's lonely. The people she meets makes up it. She'll remember that, and then we'll be off. There's really not a lot tying us here, aside from a short new beginning and her injury."

"She's all healed up, you know. Maybe she just wants to stick around in one place now."

The companion looked at him incredulously. "The Miss is not that domestic. She hates being tied to one spot, not to mention probably doesn't know how to. She has a hard enough time staying in line for the bakery down the way, let alone one town for months or years."

"Domesticity is not the worst thing in the world, if you find something worth it. Ms. Smith might have found what she was looking for." Shrugging his shoulders, Jack leaning lazily against the railing to the stairs and gave a humorless chuckle. "Domesticity. It's funny; with that description, she reminds me of someone I knew."

She never would have gave a second thought on the comment, but it felt off. It was not said as if it were a second hand statement; instead it felt wistful and with a tinge of longing. It was the same expression her parents used to get when they were first deciding to part, or when the Doctor's thoughts dwelled on a certain prior companion.

"They were dear to you." He nodded at her assumption.

"A very close friend. Some not so pleasant things happened, and we were separated. Been trying to find him for a long time now. I'll probably keep trying until the day I die." Had the situation been different, it would have hit her inner romantic dead on. Instead, Martha could only give a sympathetic frown. He waved her off. "Sorry, just the ramblings of a tired soldier. She reminds me of them quite a bit; it keeps throwing me off. The familiarity is uncanny.

"He was a constant traveler too- always roaming around and getting himself into trouble. Haven't had a good chance to look at him as of late; it's made him very difficult to find, but everywhere he goes there's always a companion he picks up and takes with him. Usually smart, modern, attractive. Much like you and the Miss."

The way Harkness worded the description made alarm bells ring in her head. The topic was hitting a bit too close for home. There should have been no one in this time period who would know the Doctor; at least, no one except her.

Unless the obsessed family that were after them had more information than she thought...

She tried to appear as lax as possible, while inside the panic was swelling. "Well he sounds like a scoundrel; taking away people from their perfectly good lives. Good thing it's a man though; it almost sounds like you believe Ms. Smith has changed her gender in some way."

He let out a boisterous laugh. "Oh, certainly not! Although if she were male, she'd be handsome as hell. Too bad even experimenting so looked down upon- early 20th century has never been my favorite. It's fun to scare the locals with it, but everything is behind such closed doors."

A shiver flew up Martha's spine. "What did you say?"

"But you know, while we're on the subject, I'd go so far as to say if she were male in this era don't you think she'd make a fantastic doctor?"

Even with his lip quirked and relaxed posture, his piercing gaze bore into her. "And don't lie. I think you know exactly what I'm implying, Ms. Jones. You seem to be quite a modern thinker as well. Definitely born before your time."

"Well what about you?" She bit back in a panic, making his eyebrows raise. Propriety be damned during this time period; she was going to say her piece. "You think you're sounding so big with your masculinity and your titles, intimidating a serving girl with your strange assumptions, but that's all you got, isn't it? You may be some big-shot military man, but you're not actually that dangerous."

"Oh, Martha Jones," he practically snarled in frustration, all pleasantries from before dropped, and she had the distinct feeling she had made a horrible mistake, "be assured, I can be much more dangerous than I appear. I have waited a _long_ time for leads, and am running out of patience. Don't make me force it out of you, because that will be extremely unpleasant, so please indulge me; what information do you have about-"

"Captain!" Jack stepped away and both glanced up to see a young man, who could not be any older than early twenties, as he came walking briskly to them, military uniform dirtied with dust and bits to gunpowder. Jack looked over, face annoyed but lost it's angered disposition. "Message for you, sir!"

"Buchanan, I'm a bit busy trying to be intimidating-"

"It's London, sir. From the superiors. They say it's urgent."

"Ah. I'll take that then, thank you." He plucked the letter from the officer who continued to stand at attention. Martha waited, nerves alight while he read the parchment. A couple minutes after, he sighed and grinned at the woman; the type a wolf would give right before going in for the kill. "Ms. Jones, I'm afraid I must be off. If we might be able to finish this another time, I'd be quite obliged."

Jack turned and walked away with the soldier, leaving Martha in the foyer of the main hall. To any passerby, one could tell the encounter had shaken her as soon as she was left to herself. She quickly grabbed her cleaning supplies and rushed away, needing time to process. ' _No, there's no way they could find us! The chameleon arch was supposed to protect us!'_

"Sir?" Jack glanced over to the young man who brought him the letter. His smile must have been contagious, as the other was also grinning, albeit smaller and his nerves seemingly alight. "Were you able to get whatever information you needed from the young miss?"

The Captain grinned broadly, dimples showing and mood infinitely lifted from what it was. "Yeah, I believe I did."

"Not that I'm questioning you, sir, but don't you think you could have been more… gentle, with her? She seemed given quite a fright."

"Here's a little life lesson for you; intimidation may only get you so far, but at least it gets you something and not nothing."

Jack Harkness, unknowing the plight of Martha for the last two months, could only be described as ecstatic. He surmised that worst case scenario, the woman was too suspicious to not be a lead. Best case, he gets his information from the maid, and the nurse unknowingly stealing his increasing affections was the last one to hold them in the first place. Maybe he finally has found his Doctor.

* * *

Autumn continued to drag on, hitting the peak of it's fullest extent and bringing colder and darker days. Schoolwork was gaining on the students as the fall semester was slowly counting down the days until Christmas vacation. With it came a surplus of sickness and stress that brought more children to the infirmary daily. The outside military drills from Jack and his men did not help the medical staff any, and added on top of a lack of rest Jane was exhausted.

So when the nurse had finally settled down in her room for afternoon tea and expecting a night off in a couple hours time, she felt it was well deserved. Martha would hopefully arrive shortly, as she had not seen the girl in a few days, and then she would finish a few final daily checks on the boys waiting for her. Maybe she would tuck in early with a hot scrub and good book.

A frantic pounding went off on the outside of her door, surprising Jane that her friend had finished work so early. So when she had opened it expecting Martha, she was surprised to find who was there instead.

"Captain Harkness?" She paused, noticing the disheveled attire, as if he had come straight from the training fields. "What is it? What's the matter?"

"Miss Smith, I know it is a bit informal, but I'd like to call on you for that drink tonight if at all possible."

There were children waiting at the infirmary to be checked upon; seventh year Hafford had broken his arm after falling out of a tree to hide from his teachers and third year Beckham had a bout of food poisoning assaulting him. Not to mention wee Bryce; a first year she had taken a shining to who wanted to be a doctor and constantly stopped by to borrow a book or five.

"It's important." He implored at her silence, hands twitching as if without the others watching he would grab hold of hers and beg. "Please, Jane?"

 _Jane_. He called her by her name, in a world full of propriety and formality without a care to the world. And he appeared so nervous about whatever was so important; he was never like that. Worry was one thing; she had seen that on a couple of occasions from the soldier. The pleading sounded as if it were so final, as if something huge was coming he was not ready for.

It would hardly be like her to say no.

"I could afford to have one drink, I suppose." Jack raised his brows at her careful sentence and she rolled her eyes. "Don't look at me like that. I haven't been saying no just to spite you. You keep pushing those boys so hard it causes us more work."

A relieved smile touched his face, "I'll tell the men to calm down on the training. Then everyone can have a break; captains and nurses included." Everything felt like it halted when he reached down to touch her hand with hesitation and, when she gave no noticeable resistance, he cradled it in one of his and bent down to touch her knuckles with his lips.

Jane knew it was a common and symbolic gesture, normally as a greeting or act of courtesy, but this was different. The way Jack gently coaxed her hand into his with respect enough that she knew pulling away would have been easy, and how his eyes were still trained deeply on hers made the woman freeze up. Not to mention the lips touching her skin were still held firmly on the spot when it had been much longer than only a second.

Her hand dropped and swung loosely at her side when he backed away due to the sudden sound of hurried footsteps. Both watched Martha briskly hurry down the hall toward them, face pink and obvious expression she had seen them. "Sorry! I got caught up with Jenny about the floors. Should I, ah, come back later…?"

"Don't worry, Miss Jones. I was just about to leave; I know tea time is important to you both. Would never dare interrupt." He gave a nod and charming grin to the servant, before turning back to Jane. "How does seven o'clock sound? It's a little late, but I don't finish with the boys until five and-"

"Oh yes!" His grin widened when her voice squeaked slightly, still flustered from what transpired before Martha appeared. She was absolute rubbish at this kind of thing. "That sounds great. I'll see you then?"

"I'll be here. Always a pleasure to see you, Ms. Jones. I apologize for not being able to continue our conversation from a few days ago. I'll find time to stop by later, so please be prepared." He nodded towards the companion, and then towards the nurse with a smile. "Until tonight, Ms. Smith."

"Yeah, you too…" Martha replied as the two woman watched him walk down the hall, a merry spring in his step. She turned to the nurse once he disappeared from sight, the other silent and looking contemplative. "What was that about?"

"It was nothing," Jane told the maid after a moment, although it sounded more like she was trying to reason it with herself. The tips of her ears turned a darker blush at Martha's scrutiny. "Just the Captain being his usual self. Now get in here before the tea gets cold."

"Okay." She followed in closely, looking behind her to make sure the man was out of earshot. The mistress looked at her companion, noting the tension in her shoulders. Martha sighed. "Actually Jane, if I could talk to you about something..."

* * *

Fanfiction relationship misunderstandings are what I live for. In other news, Latimer is #1 wing-man, Harkness approved.


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